Prologue
KAKUMA REFUGEE CAMP, KENYA, 1992

Jacob held his pointer finger just above his thumb, forming a small, rectangular box in the air. He closed one eye, held the box up to his open eye, and trapped puny little Majok in the frame. Holding his hand steady, Jacob slowly moved his finger and thumb closer and closer together, squishing his old enemy, like an ant, until Majok completely disappeared from view. Jacob sighed. If only it was that easy to get rid of him, he thought, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. If only I was an elephant, I could squash him with one foot. If only ...

They’ve both been trying to destroy me since I was seven; the war and Majok. I am twelve already; how old will I be before they finally leave me alone?

Jacob turned away from the shouts and laughter of the soccer field and walked slowly, scuffing his feet in the dirt between the winding rows of ramshackle shelters, until he found his own tent. He put the porridge water on the fire to boil, then dug his storybook out from under his mat. Flipping through its warped pages, he struggled to sound out some of the English words, tried to make them fit in with the black and white pictures. When he heard Oscar and Willy coming home from soccer, Jacob quickly buried the book beneath his mat again.

After supper, as he did most evenings, Jacob climbed to the top of a small scrub tree on the outskirts of Kakuma, his home for the past year. The tree had been picked bare of its thorns, and it was only a little taller than Jacob. He looked all around the camp, his eyes searching for Mama’s blue dress. Before the war, he would climb the giant baobab in Duk, watching for Mama when she’d been gone too long. As the first stars appeared in the blue-gray evening sky, he strained to hear them singing. Mama always said the stars sang her to sleep at night. Five years—how have I survived for five years without Mama?

A sudden flash of light caught Jacob’s eye. He looked down to see a small spot glowing on his bare arm. A firefly ... when we were little, Oscar and I used to chase them around Duk, like kite hawks. But they always preferred my big sisters for mates, landing on their strong, black Mama arms and hair, sparkling like jewels. Jacob smiled at the memory.

He gently scooped up the tiny insect and giggled as its wings tickled his cupped palms, glowing white in the warm light. How can such tiny things do something so magical—without fire! I wish I was a giant firefly—I would shine my light all over Sudan. Oscar could come with me—of course, his light would be the best and the brightest. I know we could find Mama, Grandmother, and my sisters, Uncle Daniel, Monyroor, Oscar’s family and Willy’s—maybe we could even visit Papa up in Heaven ...

Jacob set the firefly down carefully on a curled-up leaf. “Go find Mama for me,” he whispered. The insect crawled to the leaf’s edge, then flickered up, and disappeared, like a shooting star, into the darkening sky. Looking around, Jacob saw hundreds of people, but no blue dress, no Mama. He leaned back against the rough, gray branch, let his head fall forward, and pressed his fingers to his skull. Jacob rubbed his head, opening and closing his fingers, long, bony, Papa fingers. I don’t want my memories to be buried—I know they’re in here somewhere, but they’re getting too hard to find ...